The Fantasy Within
by Bittercold
Summary: We're stranded. He's dead. She's dying. So why can I only think of you? Many pairings, including House finding true love and Wilson finding someone to vent his anger about Amber on. Updates are slow, but worth it.
1. Chapter 1

"Cuddy," growled the ever-familiar voice, the annoying voice, the voice that always had some hint of mocking or sarcasm. Who else could it be but Doctor Gregory House? No one but. It never was. Lisa Cuddy looked slowly up at him.

"Dear lord," she groaned, "what did I do this time?" Long, red fingernails tapped against her desk impatiently. House narrowed deep, precious blue eyes, and she almost lost herself.

"My patient! Why the hell did you release him?" House hissed, cane clutched tightly in his hand and snapping her from her reverie. Lisa noticed that, especially today, House had been clutching his cane tighter, leaning harder on it. His knuckles were a deep alabastar color.

"Because he was ready to go home," the Dean of medicine replied calmly, shuffling her papers. She ignored a deep heartache in her chest. "You had diagnosed him, you had treated him, he had healed, and I sent him home. Do you have a problem with that?" She blinked when he slammed a piece of paper onto her desk with his free hand. It was… "House, why did you scan his brain?"

"Damnit, Cuddy, read the results." And she did.

"He has cancer?" She gazed at him questioningly.

"What tipped you off?" House snapped. "He has cancer, Cuddy. Get him back!"

"Why did you test without my permission?"

"What makes you think I'd ask? I never ask," he pointed out. One shade of blue eyes met the other. "Get him back." He headed out toward the door, then stopped to look over his shoulder and say, "Next time you screw up my patient, Cuddy, do you think you could wear a little more revealing shirt? The twins make it easier to forgive you." Then, House was gone.

--

Doctor James Wilson looked at the other team members. Taub. Kutner. Thirteen. He repeated, "I'm resigning."

Thirteen asked kindly, "Did you tell House yet?" The oncologist shook his head.

"Thought I'd tell you three first. House… I'm not exactly on best terms with him now," he murmured. Troubled brown eyes flashed to seeing Amber lay there, dead, decaying. Well, OK, she wasn't decaying. But she was still dead, and it was all that egomaniac's fault. Wilson bit back a sob. Immediately, Thirteen embraced him, patting his back in a friendly way. Taub rolled his eyes.

"Please," he said, "take the waterworks outside." This earned the short doctor a glare from Thirteen, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Come on, Jimmy," soothed Thirteen, cooing softly. "Let's go." She led him back to his own office, where Wilson broke down, sliding against the closed door and letting tears roll down his face.

"She's really gone," he sniffled. "I'll kill House!" Thirteen slipped down next to him, shaking her head.

"No, because he's your best friend," she whispered. "It wasn't his fault. He didn't ask her to come onto the bus with him."

"No," James agreed. "But she came to pick him up because he called me… bastard!" he swore loudly. The tears stopped and he quivered with anger. Thirteen grabbed his wrists to stop him from shaking.

"Jimmy, calm down. You're just grieving. Now, about resigning… are you sure you want to? If you keep your job, you'll be able to stay with us. If you leave, well, you'll have nothing to distract yourself." Wilson looked up at her, eyes obviously blurry from hot tears. "It's just, you aren't sure what you're doing yet, I mean, you're no-" She was silenced when something crushed against her lips. It was Wilson.


	2. Chapter 2

Trevor Clark stared up at Kutner. "Why am I back?" the man asked lightly. He scratched his blond hair.

"You have cancer," the dark docter responded. Lawrence Kutner sighed. "Dr. House says you have about two months to live. I'm sorry."

"Why can't this House tell me this himself?" snapped Clark. "I haven't seen him since… ever. But he somehow seems to think I have cancer?"

"The brain scan you let us do – that's how we know," Kutner said. "Well, we gave the results to Dr. House, he diagnosed, checked with our oncologist, and then Cuddy called you back." The patient sighed.

"Thank you, Dr. Kutner." He got up and left. As soon as Clark was gone, a middle-aged man with a headband around his ears and a bright red, embarrassed look on his face showed up.

"Where's Dr. House?" he cried. Kutner blinked, pointing him to the clinic. He was only _pretty_ sure House was there.

--

House leaned back in Exam Room I, PSP in hand, cane leaning against the bed. That's when the door burst open and a man shrieked, "I need surgery!" House sat bolt up, eyes wide in shock, and he mouthed a curse as his PSP fell to the ground with a clatter.

"Who the hell are you?" he swore, grabbing his cane and PSP.

"Are you Dr. House?" asked the patient. House nodded slowly and repeated his question, only to have it ignored yet again. The door slammed shut, and as soon as it did, the man removed his headband. He had freaking pointed ears. House blinked wildly.

--

He opened Cuddy's office door and barged into the room. "Man comes into my exam room during clinic duty," he said. (Cuddy thought, 'You were doing clinic duty?') "Must have been in his early fifties. Takes this headband he was wearing off and showed me his elf ears." Cuddy stared.

"You were doing clinic duty," she stated in disbelief.

"You have a large ass," House responded. "Are we done pointing out the obvious?" She glared. "Schedule a surgery with our British friend Chase."

"One, House, he's Australian. And two… elf ears?" She blinked quizzically.

"Spock walked right into my exam room," House said. "Said he woke up with them that morning. Every hospital laughed at him, like it was a fake. But they're as real as your breasts." Another glare was sent his way.

"Fine, House. Do your little surgery. Test the ears. I don't care. Next time, just don't barge right in, alright?" she asked, though she knew it was a moot point. He nodded, thinking that he should make sure to make a racket next time he barged in, and he left to schedule the surgery. Cuddy sighed softly, then self consciously checked to see how large her rump really was.

--

Thirteen knocked on the door to Wilson's office. "Jimmy?" she asked softly. Yesterday, he kissed her. She ran, avoided him, and now here she was, coming back to him. Wilson opened the door and sighed.

"Look," he started. "About yesterday…" He was interrupted when she shoved him back into the office. The door closed very softly behind them. Misunderstanding her action, he backed away. "I know you're mad, Thirteen, but-" This time, she pressed her own lips to his. Wilson tasted undenyingly sweet, she 

realized. He pressed back into her, arms slipping around her waist. James had no clue why the hell he was doing this; he wasn't nearly over Amber… compensation? That had to be it. But compensation never tasted so good.

--

Chase blinked at the elder doctor. "You want me to do what?" he asked with confusion.

House groaned. "How many times do I have to say it? Remove Spock's ears." Chase still didn't get it ("Where did Star Trek come into this?"). "A patient came into the clinic today-" ("You were doing clinic duty?") "-and he had pointed ears larger than Cuddy's ass." The Australian nodded finally; he'd do it.


	3. Chapter 3

House stared vacantly at the elf-eared man. He sat on the bed, while the patient stood in the exam room. House still hadn't scheduled the surgery. "Tell me," he said, almost with a bored tone. "Tell me, Spock, what really happened?"

The man, Adam Smith, stiffened. "I told you. I went to bed last night and I woke up with them in the morning. Why do you think I'm lying?"

"Everybody lies. Tell me the truth." House's vacant expression refused to change.

"What makes you think I won't lie a second time?" No response. Adam huffed. "Fine. I was knocked out, and the next thing I knew, I had elf ears."

"Well, Legolas," House said, "I'm afraid we just don't have time to remove them. We're booked." Adam turned to see an empty clinic, then turned back to stare at House. The doctor shrugged. "Absolutely full. Try another hospital."

--

"He had ELF EARS!?" gaped Taub, staring at his boss. He and Kutner broke out in laughter, and even Thirteen stifled a giggle. House raised a brow.

"Thirteen, stop making out with Wilson, it's disgusting. Do you KNOW where his mouth has been? He's had wives before, ya know, and dogs' mouths aren't always clean." This time, it was her turn to gape. How did he…? "Your shirt is unbuttoned. Your hair is a mess. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were screwing him, but you don't have the guts." She blinked.

"One, what does this have to do with dogs? And, how do you know it's Wilson? I could have the hots for Kutner, you know." House rolled his eyes.

"I've seen you and Wilson look at each other. _Oh, Jimmy_," he mocked. "And dogs, Wilson's wives. Think about it." She thought, then glared. "Do YOU want to become his little bitch too?" Thirteen flicked her boss off and barged out of the room. House's other ducklings cracked up, and Taub clapped. House blinked at them. "Any new cases?" They shook their heads. Grabbing his cane, House limped from the office, leaning heavily on the black stick. Kutner watched him head off to Cuddy's office.

--

Cuddy stared at Wilson. "You're what?" she asked.

"Resigning." His eyes were intent. No matter how convincing Thirteen could be, he wasn't backing down – he was backing out. He slid the letter of resignation onto her desk. Cuddy grabbed it and ripped it in half. The halves floated to her trash bin. He gaped. "Cuddy, I need that!"

"Don't care," the Dean of medicine shrugged. "Get back to work." Wilson growled, turned, and left. As soon as he left, House entered her room. "Dear Lord, what NOW?" she groaned.

"Elf-boy. Cancel the surgery," House said. "It was a prank after all. I saw the damn lines to the molds." He nodded to a little case of pills on her desk. "Some of them are missing. They're birth control, am I right? So, you've given up on having a kid. Good. You've done the world a favor."

"House," warned Lisa Cuddy, eyes narrowing. "Watch your tongue." He too narrowed his eyes.

"What this time?" the doctor groaned.

"Just watch where you're treading. I'll cancel the surgery. Get back to work." She turned back to her work, but House wouldn't leave. "What else do you need…?"

House blinked. "Are you PMSing?" he asked. "Well, I know you are, but it's better to ask." Cuddy glared fire through him. "You are, because you're more bitchy than normal."

"House, leave."

"Aww, Cuddles," House whined childishly. "I'm just watchin' ya work. Not doing anything." Another glare was sent his way and she pointed to her door. House sighed and left.

--

Willson slammed Thirteen into the wall, lips crushed against hers, hands pressing her shoulders back. Today, he seemed to have more fire in him, as if he were clearly pissed. Thirteen didn't seem to mind at first, but as Wilson shoved her closer and closer to the wall, she pushed him away. "Jimmy, what are you doing?" she wondered.

"Sorry," Wilson whispered, letting go of her. Thirteen frowned, grabbing him and bringing him back.

"It's alright," she said. "Is something wrong?" Cool lips touched her neck and a shudder was sent down her spine.

"Cuddy won't let me leave," he murmured, his breath passing over her neck as he trailed kisses to her jawline.

"Jimmy, don't leave, stay for me," she murmured, fingers digging into his back. Wilson smirked, nodding, and resumed their kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

House flicked his television on, scrolling through the channels. "Garbage, garbage, garbage," he said as he passed from station to station. He landed on the BBC channel. "Perfect. English humor." He stared blankly at the bright, glowing screen. _Black Adder_ played on the screen. Popping a Vicodin, he began to doze off until a knock sounded at his door. Slowly, House trudged over to his door and clicked it open. There stood his best friend, James Wilson. "What do you need, Wilson?" groaned House tiredly.

"House, I want to resign."

"No." House moved to close the door, but Wilson's foot jarred it open.

"Yes," Wilson said. "I'm resigning. And I need your help convincing Cuddy." His dark eyes were pleading. House narrowed his eyes.

"Why should I help my best friend throw his life down the drain?" House demanded. "One, you have a new girlfriend to distract you from the so-called _pain_ of losing Amber. Your work distracts you. And, as an added bonus, you have me." Wilson blinked.

"You know about Thirteen? She's not my girlfriend," he said slowly. "I need to resign."

"Give me one good reason why you need to resign, and why I should help."

"I'm tired of watching patients having to go home with only six months to live," Wilson said. "I'm sick of watching them die. And you're my best friend, House." House finally shut the door. It was obvious he wasn't going to be any help.

--

Cuddy stepped into the office where House's ducklings sat quacking, Greg House standing by his board with a marker in hand. "Give me the symptoms," he ordered.

Taub said, "High fever," and House scribbled it on the board. "Rash," called Thirteen, and it was once more written on the board. "Seizures," Taub added, and Kutner said, "Hair loss." House blinked as the last two were written down.

"What do you three think it sounds like?" he growled. "And why did you waste my time with asking me?"

Cuddy said, "It's Lupus. Start him on an anti-inflammatory. First, I need to talk to you four. We need to go to France. Some rich guy there is sick and will only accept help from our team," she said. "I'm having Chase, Cameron, and Foreman come as well. And Wilson is coming too."

"Oh great. I get to spend time with my most favorite idiots in the world." House popped two Vicodin. "Pack extra Vicodin, mother," he told Cuddy, and promptly left the office, heading to his own. Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"Put the treatment on the Lupus patient," she ordered. "Then pack your bags. Plan for two months; we don't know how long we're going to be there." The three nodded as she left. Her legs led her to Wilson's office, and she passed the news to him. Cameron, Chase, and Foreman already knew.

--

House frowned. "Watch out!" he called to the others. "There's a Cuddy on board! You might get PMSed to death!" he chanted. They rolled their eyes as they pushed past him, and he smirked and boarded the plane after them. He slipped into the seat next to Wilson, who seemed to no longer be mad at him for not helping. "How long is this flight?" he asked the oncologist.

"About seven to eight hours." As Wilson answered, House pulled out his Nintendo DS. "What games do you have?" House held up a small cartridge that read "Pokemon Diamond" on it. "Mind if I play it later?"

"Knock yourself out." But for now, he was playing it. His fingers slammed against the buttons quickly, occasionally tapping the screen when needed. Eventually, he handed it off to Wilson and leaned back to take a nap. He was woken up when the food carts were brought, and Wilson handed him a dead Nintendo DS. "Bastard."


	5. Chapter 5

House awoke to extreme turbulence; the plane was knocked senseless by windy tremors. Icy blue eyes gazed 'round. Something had lined the air heavy with fear and panic, which now had a stronghold on everyone. With a sizzling _click_, the intercom emitted the pilot's scratchy voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We are experiencing some severe turbulence, but it will soon pass. Please remain seated." He clicked off.

Something started to bombard the plane's metal exterior; rain began falling fiercely outside. Once again, fear struck the hearts of the doctors. Cameron squirmed closer to Chase, gripping her fiancé's sleeve, knuckles dyed a pale color. House vaguely noticed Wilson glancing at Remy Hadely. The rain outside hit harder.

And then, it happened. Blinding white illuminated every detail as the scene played out. Flames began to lick at the metal, turning it white-hot, and then the plane's back formed a gaping maw, its lips were orange and red and yellow. Sparks flocked like geese, setting fire to whatever they could claim. The doctors' fear grew yet more, their eyes reflecting the ghastly event. With an eerie groan, the plane completely split, separating pilot from passengers in one great sweep.

The last thing they felt was the wind slamming them against an icy ocean.

--

Silence. And then:

"Hello?"

"House?"

"No… Cutner. Who is that?"

"Cuddy. Do you see anyone else?" There was a brief pause.

"Wilson's here. He's badly injured. I can't see to stop the bleeding."

"Hold on," a new voice said. There was a click, another one, and then a tiny flame sparked. Remy was holding a silver zippo lighter inscribed by a fierce tiger snarling. "Get me some wood, Cutner." He scavenged as well as he could. There wasn't much timber surrounding them, mainly sand stained with blood. Hadely briefly noticed that they all were slathered with lacerations, contusions, and abrasions. And it was just the four of them. Worry laced Hadely's heart as she noticed that James Wilson was injured badly. Cutner returned with the wood, and she tossed him the zippo to light it. As soon as the fire was lit, she was by Wilson's side. Poking out of his leg could be seen a large piece of white-and-blood-stained metal.

--

"Where's my cane?" House barked. There was no light; every star and the moon too were concealed by gray, crying storm clouds. The diagnostics genius could barely see the silhouette of what appeared to be Robert Chase. House kneeled, groping around on the sand. As soon as his fingers grazed over the plastic, he snatched it up and struggled to rise. "Who else is here, British Man?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Cameron; Taub, though he's unresponsive; Foreman; me; you," came the ever-familiar Australian accent. House blinked.

"Thirteen, Cutner, Wilson, Cuddles. Foreman?" House paused, awaiting the response. When it came, he continued. "Look for the rest of them. Chase, see if you can find any supplies." He heard Chase scoff.

"In the dark? Hardly. And what are _you_ going to do while Foreman and I go work our asses off?" For a moment, there was mere silence.

"Looking for your friends and supplies for them is hardly working your ass off. Now, doing it for the people you hate, that's working your ass off. Thus the reason I remain behind. That… and I'm a cripple." He smiled sweetly, the expression lost in the darkness. "As for me, well, I'm sure there's a sand bed somewhere with the name House on it." He popped two pills and limped off.

--

"Cuddy, we have to remove the metal," Cutner said. He and Cuddy looked grim, their faces dimly lit by Hadely's fire. She herself was stationed at Wilson's side, silent with an unspoken vigil. And while the Dean of medicine agreed, this was not the time nor the place to do any sort of removal. If his blood didn't clot, Lisa Cuddy would never forgive herself.

"We haven't the supplies," she began to tell Cutner, but she paused as Remy leaped away from James' side.

"We were on a _medical_ plane," Thirteen said. "There has to be something there that we can use! Cutner, come with me. Cuddy, stay here with Jimmy. Make sure he doesn't lose too much blood. If something happens, _call me_, alright?" Without waiting for a response, she encircled her fingers around his wrist and dragged him off toward the maw of the forest. A sigh spread Cuddy's lips, and her head hurt slightly. Before blue eyes she saw a tall man, leaning on a cane. As soon as the image came, it faded. She sighed again.

A thick voice cut into her reverie. "Cuddy!" it called. Instantly, she recognized it as Foreman's.

Cuddy cried back, "Foreman! Look for the fire, it shouldn't be too hard to see." She waited for God knows how long, it could have been one minute or ten, and he appeared. Like hers and Wilson's and Hadely's and Cutner's, Foreman's clothes were torn and tattered and he himself was plastered heavily with cuts. As soon as he saw the oncologist, Foreman's chocolate eyes widened. Cuddy must have read his mind because she said, "Scrap metal. It's cut into his muscle, I'm not sure how deep. We're resistant to remove it because he may not clot or-"

"Cuddy, calm down. Where are Cutner and Thirteen?"

"They're back looking for supplies from the wreck. How is everyone?" Though she asked specifically for everyone, one name still remained on the tip of her mind; _House_.

"They're all right. They are all back with House… Chase is also looking for supplies, House is doing God knows what, Taub is knocked out, and Cameron is asleep, but responsive." Cuddy sighed with relief; he survived.

"Go get the others and bring them here. We can't move Wilson without fear of increasing blood loss," she said. Foreman nodded and left.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

They all gathered around something, somber expressions spreading from one face to the next, an even flow of mourning. The doctors were silently huddled around a body, cold and rigid and lying lifelessly in the sand. Even the infamous Gregory House seemed quiet, baby blue eyes sleeked over with sadness. Lisa Cuddy's cheeks were stained with searing tears. The other men were holding a vigil. Remy Hadely, who stood across from James Wilson, kept glancing at her secret lover, wishing nothing more than to curl up in his arms. Allison Cameron clung to Robert Chase's arm, burying her face in his chest. Eric Foreman and Lawrence Cutner were still with grief. Chris Taub was motionless, staring blankly ahead. It was Cuddy who broke the silence.

"What are we going to do with his body?" An eerie, unbreakable quiet met them once more. Nobody moved. Nobody wanted to touch the body. Moving the body would mean admitting his death, and they all only seemed reluctant to do so. Not a full day had gone by, and already, they had lost one of their own. The thought of rescue was far out of reach; common sense told them that no one knew exactly where this island – if that really was what they were on – is. Heck, not even they knew where they were.

Finally, in a hoarse, cracked voice, Hadely murmured, "We should put him out to sea." A few other doctors quietly murmured in agreement, and not even House contradicted her. With silent orders, the females backed away and the men, all but Wilson, who was still weak from his injury, reached down and grabbed the body, hauling him into the air. They laid the body down in the ocean, pulling his lids shut. And then they pushed him, letting the sea devour him completely. First he became a distant shape, and then a speck. And then, Christopher Taub was gone.

Rain began to fall, first lightly, and then as the night grew older, the rain came harder. Storm clouds covered the thin, crescent, killing all light. There were no stars out tonight, and those that were actually out had been hidden behind the heavy gray clouds. Cameron sighed, returning to her fiancé's side, leaning into him with somber eyes. House turned silently away, heading to the mouth of the forest in front of them; nobody followed him. Wilson limped away toward another opening in the crowd of trees. As if by unspoken agreement, Remy Hadely took another route to follow after him, telling the others that she was going to make sure he did not overexert himself.

--

"Jimmy?" The soft words belonged to Remy. Sitting down and leaning into a tree, Wilson looked up at the other doctor. Through the leaves, rainwater dripped down, but he remained only damp from the makeshift funeral. Remy slipped onto his lap, straddling him and putting her hands on his shoulders. She was sure to be mindful of his wound, though now that the metal was out, he seemed to be doing better. "Are you OK?" she whispered. Despite the grim situation, James couldn't help but smile, putting a hand on his lover's cheek.

"I'm fine," he told her sincerely, reaching around her and pulling her closer. For long moments, he merely marveled in her gorgeous aroma, that of heaven, he suspected. Remy shifted over to sit on the ground next to him, fulfilling her desire and curling into his side, one arm wrapped around his navel. She too took in his scent, basking in the musky fragrance, which was a mixture of spices. His arm slid around her back, hand lightly grasping her side. Quite some time passed as they just laid there in each other's arms, content to silence. Wilson seemed to have now completely forgotten both Amber's and Taub's deaths, now interested only in the girl curled up by his side. He craned his neck and laid a gentle kiss on her head. That's when he noticed she'd fallen asleep. For now, he stayed with her.

--

Out of reach from everyone else's earshot, Gregory House swore loudly. He reached out with his cane and slammed it into a tree, blue eyes narrowed. The cane snapped beneath the immense pressure, and this only caused House to get angrier, uttering another curse. He limped over to the tree that broke his beloved cane, convinced thoroughly that it was the tree's fault. Somberly, he stared at the fragments of black plastic. Odd, he thought, that the flame should remain intact. A noise, that of the shuffling sort and the rustle of foliage, made his head tilt upward. "Good God, Cuddles – spying on me?" Suppressing a smirk, he shook his head, as if disappointed.

Surprise struck his visitor as she slipped from behind another tree. That was the problem with forests, House figured; they're all full of trees. Indeed, the person who had been spying on him was Lisa Cuddy. He barely noticed that shame covered her blue eyes. "How did you know it was me, House?" the Dean of medicine asked, somewhat shocked.

House inclined his head. "I know everything, Cuddy." The egotistic comment hung in the air for long moments. And then he added, "Plus, only you would follow me." Lisa tilted her head, causing House to sigh and explain. "The others don't mind me, but at the same time they hate me. You, on the other hand, seem to have a profound need to stalk me to my grave." He popped two vicodin. Cuddy sighed.

Her visage suddenly turned to an odd expression, like a mix of confusion and wonder. "Cuddles?" she asked, a thin smirk passing over pink lips. Greg bit his own lip. She wasn't supposed to hear that name. Instead of answering her, he pretended to not hear her question. Then she noticed the snapped cane on the ground and sighed again, looking at him once more. "You broke your cane, House!" she pointed out. "Why did you do that? You'll be useless."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. What next, are you going to tell me that you have no sex life?" This earned him a heavy glare. "Calm down, I know you have a sex life. Oh wait – nevermind. You're adopting." She cleared her throat, but he ignored her and said, "Are you just going to stand there and give me dirty looks, or did you actually have a purpose in following me?"

Cuddy shrugged slightly. "I thought you could use some company," she murmured.

"Wouldn't you, you know, try and hit me if I used you?" the diagnostician replied, sitting down. "Because, I doubt I can outrun you." He resisted the urge to pop yet another vicodin, hoping that the throbbing in his leg would soon go away. Cuddy's eyes narrowed at his snide remark.

"House, if you don't want me here, then I'm going." When he didn't respond, or even care to look at her, she said, "I'm going now."

House still didn't look up, but he did reply with, "And then what are you going to do? Continue breathing down my neck instead of actually going?" The harshness in his voice caused her to flinch. "If you're going to go, then _go_. Don't make promises you aren't going to keep." She still didn't leave, but instead sat down next to him. Greg rolled his eyes; "Dear God! Will I never be free?"

"No," Cuddy responded simply.


	7. Chapter 7

Turquoise eyes blinked open. Golden and frail sun rays filtered through the trees, dappling the forest ground. There was a soft quality about the atmosphere today, Doctor Hadely noted as she yawned. She half expected James to be gone, but lo and behold, when she turned in a warm grip, he was sleeping soundly next to her, holding her close with both arms. His jacket had been placed on her, acting as a makeshift blanket. She smiled in gratitude, just happy to be here, to be with him. Wilson's own eyes fluttered open, a smile quickly passing his lips. "Morning," Remy said with a soft smile of her own, kissing him on the cheek. Her stomach growled loudly, a painful reminder that they weren't at home in fluffy beds but rather stuck in the middle of Lord knows where.

James grinned, moving his arms away from her. "Stay here," he murmured gently. "I'll find us some food." But as he stood, his lover stood with him. At first, the oncologist opened his mouth to tell her to sit back down, but she put a silencing finger to his lips. Instantly, he shut his mouth.

"Jimmy, you're not going out alone," she told him sternly; he marveled at her authority. "I know I can't make you wait here, you're too damned stubborn, but I can still come with you." Wilson chuckled.

"Alright, alright, Remy," he murmured, giving her a swift kiss. Amazing, he decided, how much she could make him fall for her. As he pulled away from her, he saw a gorgeous shine in her aquamarine eyes, sparkling with – what was that? He quickly found out; _desire._ Ah, he thought; she wants me! She stood up on her tip-toes, returning with another kiss, and then pried away from him. Silently, he told himself that if they ever got back, he was going to marry her.

--

"Wake up," came a voice, embroidered with an Australian accent. Green eyes flickered open and then were lost in emerald seas. Grinning, Allison leaned forward and kissed her fiancé. "Mornin'," Robert said, kissing her back. The sun had yet to fully peak above the sea's horizon, but the air was still warm as any dawn would be on a summer's morning in New York. This is something that, Allison thought, I could get used to.

"Love you," she said, grasping his hand and using him to pull herself off the sandy beach floor. He repeated the words in return, stroking her face. And then it struck her like a hammer would the head of a nail; this was not hers and Chase's beautiful condo back in the States, wherever that may be. Were they even near England now? Doubt prickled at the back of her neck, but she knew there was no way to tell for sure. But there was still the sense of emptiness boiling deep inside her that told her that everything was gone, lost, and there was no way of getting it back. As soon as this realization came to her, Cameron keeled over, down on her hands and knees. Chase kneeled down beside her, gently putting an arm around her curved back. She wept, and he let her, not trying to stop her, not even asking her reasons. He just kneeled next to her, pushing her dirty blond hair from her face.

Finally, after Lord knows how long of crying, he murmured, "Al, are you OK?" Genuine worry shone in his eyes.

Without bothering to stop crying or look up at him, she shrieked, "We're stranded on a damned island, God knows where, and all you can ask is if I'm OK?" Now her once-gentle face whipped up to view the Australian surgeon, and her features were almost contorted with lines of fury; she was hardly recognizable. "All you can freaking ask is if I'm OK?" Looking closer to her, he noticed that his fiancée's eyes were slicked over with anger. "Damnit, Bobby! Can't you use that stupid brain of yours!?" Chase flinched.

"Sorry, love," he said. "I didn't know."

"You're damned right you didn't know! You know _nothing._"

"Of course I don't, dear" he conceded, hoping that this was appeasing her. To his horror, her voice was only raised.

"Stop doing that!" she screamed, jerking away from him. "It isn't working, you know. Those damned _yes dear_s and _yes love_s; they're pissing me off!"

"I didn't mean to." He was at a loss for words; Cameron had never been like this before. Maybe once, but that was due to PMS. And he knew that right now, she wasn't going through that. The knowledge only made her all the scarier.

"Get the hell away from me," she ordered.

--

"Where's House?" Lawrence asked. "He'd know what to do." The morning sun barely affected him. It was the sort of feeling that one got when nothing was right, so everything felt cold. He reflected silently that wherever House was, Cuddy was. And when those two were together, everything could be solved. But for now, it was just him and Foreman. His teammate wasn't quite the best company; he was too much a follower of House to be enjoyable. And then, of course, the whole river in Egypt thing came in; denial. Eric Foreman was an asshole in denial.

"You can't depend on House for everything, Cutner," Foreman scolded, twirling a twig between his fingers in boredom. For a second, both men looked at each other.

"You do," Cutner pointed out. He began kicking sand up with his shoes, watching the grains become sailors on the wind.

"No I don't," the darker doctor said defensively, finding the idea rather absurd. He vaguely saw Cutner shrug.

"Whatever gets you through the night."


End file.
